The Troll 700 Sportscoupe: Norway’s Ambitious Answer to the Porsche

Nordic Daring - Long before today’s carmakers began experimenting boldly with lightweight materials and alternative engineering ideas, a small group tucked away in the forests of Telemark tried to rewrite what a Scandinavian sports car could be. It was a time when Europe was rebuilding its confidence as much as its infrastructure, and when every new invention seemed to carry the hope of something larger. Against this shifting backdrop, an unconventional white coupé rolled out of a modest Norwegian workshop, carrying ambitions far greater than its small footprint suggested. This was the Troll 700 Sportscoupe—often described, half in admiration and half in curiosity, as “the Norwegian Porsche”—a machine that embodied both the daring and the fragility of innovation in the late 1950s. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé—long viewed with equal parts admiration and curiosity as “the Norwegian Porsche”—captured the bold ambition and delicate uncertainty that defined automotive innovation in the late 1950s. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The idea sprang from the mind of Per Kohl-Larsen, a man who had made his fortune not in engineering but in the coffee trade in Africa. Prosperity gave him freedom, and freedom, in his case, fueled a desire to transform Norway from a country that imported cars into one that created them. The company he founded, bearing the literal and slightly eccentric name “Plastik & Bilindustri,” reflected both his practicality and his sense of experimentation. Working alongside two engineers—Germany’s Bruno Falck and Norway’s own Erling Fjugstad—he set out to build a coupé that would stand apart not through brute force or extravagance, but through modern materials, smart engineering, and the optimism of an industry entering a new era. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé emerged from Plastik & Bilindustri’s brief 1957–1958 venture, developed in close collaboration with German engineer Bruno Falck and Norwegian engineer Erling Fjugstad. (Picture from: Automovelantigo in Facebook)

Fiberglass became the signature of their approach. At a time when steel still dominated production lines but manufacturers worldwide were eyeing new composites, the Troll’s lightweight body was both forward-thinking and economically strategic. Keeping the car under 700 kilograms wasn’t just an engineering brag—it meant agility, lower production costs, and the possibility of scaling manufacturing even as the continent was still recovering from wartime scarcity. Chevrolet’s Corvette had already showcased fiberglass overseas, but in Europe the trend was far from mainstream. Most fiberglass-bodied attempts were hobbyist kits built atop aging mechanical foundations. Kohl-Larsen intended the exact opposite: a modern, mass-producible vehicle that demonstrated Norway’s ability to think—and build—fresh. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé ultimately existed in only five examples—tangible reminders of what the project could have become—while leaving Kohl-Larsen and his family facing severe financial ruin. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The mechanical heart of the Troll came from a perhaps unlikely source: the remains of a bankrupt German manufacturer. Gutbrod-Werke, despite closing its doors, left behind a remarkable piece of engineering—a 700cc two-stroke, two-cylinder engine equipped with Bosch fuel injection. For the period, this setup was surprisingly advanced, even a little futuristic, and perfectly in tune with the Troll team’s belief in new technology. Yet for all its sophistication, it eked out only 26 horsepower, and its injection system soon proved temperamental. The team briefly considered replacing it with SAAB’s three-cylinder two-stroke powerplant, a solution just across the border, but the plan never evolved beyond internal discussions. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé showcased a fiberglass-first approach at a moment when steel still dominated, giving its lightweight body a modern and cost-efficient edge. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

Still, the Troll’s creators worked resourcefully with what they had. They purchased Gutbrod’s Superior chassis to pair with the fiberglass body, even when the dimensions didn’t match. Instead of redesigning the entire structure, they simply extended the body by fifteen centimeters—an adjustment that unexpectedly added a small rear seat. It was a practical compromise wrapped in quiet ingenuity, a hallmark of the entire project. By the time they presented the first fully realized car to the press in October 1956, the Troll 700 Sportscoupe had taken on a personality of its own: compact yet expressive, simple yet strangely elegant, shaped by curved fiberglass panels that gave it a lightness familiar to sports cars but uncommon among those from the north. 

The 1957 Troll 700 Sportscoupé relied on an unexpectedly sourced mechanical heart—a 700cc two-stroke, two-cylinder engine with Bosch fuel injection salvaged from the bankrupt German manufacturer Gutbrod-Werke. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

On May 1, 1957, the first customer took delivery of a Troll, and for a moment, it looked as though the dream of a Norwegian car industry might actually ignite. But dreams, especially industrial ones, collide not just with engineering challenges but with politics. To begin mass production, “Plastik & Bilindustri” needed formal approval from the Norwegian government—approval that never came. Behind the scenes, the issue had little to do with the car’s technical merits and everything to do with international trade. Norway was exporting enormous quantities of fish meal and fish products to the Eastern Bloc, and in exchange, importing cars from those same nations. Allowing domestic automobile production to expand risked upsetting that delicate balance. In a twist almost too bureaucratic to seem real, the Troll’s success threatened to jeopardize national economics tied to fish. And so the government hesitated, stalled, and ultimately withheld the essential authorization. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé reveals its smooth, sculpted lines and compact stance, capturing the car’s uniquely Norwegian blend of minimalist design and unconventional charm. (Picture from: ViaRetro)

The delay proved fatal. Without the green light to scale production, the company had no income, no investors willing to take on prolonged uncertainty, and no safety net. By 1958, the workshop fell silent. Only five Troll Sportscoupes had been built—five physical proofs of what might have been—and the financial fallout was devastating for Kohl-Larsen and his family. What remained was not a thriving industry but a story: a small, determined attempt to carve space for Norwegian creativity in the global automotive landscape, overshadowed by geopolitics and the unforgiving realities of manufacturing. 

The Troll 700 Sportscoupé displays its distinctive teardrop-shaped rear and expansive wraparound window, highlighting the quirky aerodynamic vision behind Norway’s rare fiberglass experiment. (Picture from: En.TerjeBjornStad)

Today, the Troll 700 Sportscoupe lives on mostly in quiet admiration among enthusiasts and historians who appreciate the boldness behind its existence. It represents a moment when a handful of innovators believed Norway could produce more than raw materials and seafood exports, when fiberglass bodies and unconventional engines felt like the keys to a new path forward. More than its horsepower or production numbers, the car symbolizes the thrill and vulnerability of trying something new in a world not yet ready to support it. And it invites the lingering, almost playful question: if the political winds had blown differently, would Scandinavia’s most iconic sports car today be wearing a very different badge? *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | VIARETRO | EN.TERJEBJORNSTAD | AUTOMOVELANTIGO IN FACEBOOK ]

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The Sparks 'Pegasus' Cabriolet: When American Muscle Met Neo-Classic Style

Velvet Thunder - There’s something magical about cars that dare to be different — vehicles that break away from convention, not because they have to, but because someone believed they could. The late 1980s was a decade bursting with individuality, where design was bold, and engineers weren’t afraid to mix nostalgia with modern flair. Among the handful of creators who thrived in that creative tension stood Ron Sparks — a man whose imagination refused to fit inside the box of mass production. From his workshop in San Marcos, California, Sparks dreamed up a machine that embodied both elegance and eccentricity: the Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet emerged from a vision to fuse American muscle with the romantic spirit of a European grand tourer, brought to life by Intercontinental Carriage, Inc. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Born from a desire to merge American muscle with the romantic flair of a European grand tourer, the Pegasus Cabriolet was a rare creation, crafted under the banner of Intercontinental Carriage, Inc. Its design took cues from Sparks’ earlier ventures — the Sparks Turbo Phaeton and the Sparks II Roadster — cars that flirted with neo-classic design in the late 1970s and early ’80s. But the Pegasus Cabriolet wasn’t just a revival of those ideas; it was a transformation. Built between 1989 and 1993, it represented one of the most obscure yet fascinating reinterpretations of the Ford Mustang platform, specifically the Fox Body Mustang — a staple of American automotive culture at the time. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet borrowed cues from Sparks’ earlier neo-classic models but reshaped them into a distinctly new creation. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Under its sculpted hood sat a 5.0-liter V8 engine, the same heart that powered Ford’s own performance cars of the era. It produced 225 horsepower — more than enough to make the Pegasus roar down the open highway with authority. The power could be channeled through either a five-speed manual transmission for purists or an automatic overdrive for those who preferred their drive effortless. Beneath its striking exterior, the car carried a Ford LTD chassis, a solid foundation that offered both strength and adaptability. Sparks’ engineering approach was inventive — a blend of existing Ford components fused with custom craftsmanship. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet gained its distinctive visual character through Alain Clenet’s artistic touch, which refined Sparks’ mechanical vision with the elegance it deserved. (Picture from: Aiden Jewell in Flickr)

What made the Pegasus Cabriolet truly captivating, however, was its design language. The vehicle wore its personality openly: a mix of retro romance and futuristic bravado. Its sweeping lines and wide fenders exuded the confidence of classic luxury cars, while details like the real wire wheels and wide whitewall tires paid homage to the golden era of motoring. The use of iron and plastic body panels gave it structure and style, while the doors — borrowed intriguingly from the Volkswagen Cabriolet — added an unexpected European twist. Inside, the car continued its balancing act between opulence and practicality. White leather seats, power accessories, a convertible top, and a stereo with a CD player (a luxury touch for the time) gave it the comfort of a grand cruiser, yet it still held the soul of a performance-oriented Mustang beneath its tailored suit.

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet showcased a confident mix of retro charm and modern flair with sweeping lines, wide fenders, wire wheels, whitewall tires, mixed metal-and-plastic panels, and Volkswagen Cabriolet doors that lent it a subtle European twist. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Only three examples of the Sparks Cabriolet were ever built, and that exclusivity makes it as much a piece of art as it is a car. One of these was Ron Sparks’ personal vehicle — a testament to how deeply personal the project was to its creator. Sparks Motorworks, the division responsible for its construction, treated each build like a handcrafted masterpiece rather than a product. It wasn’t about mass appeal; it was about passion, design, and the joy of making something unique in a world that often prizes repetition. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet combined white leather seating, power features, a convertible top, and a then-premium CD stereo to deliver grand-cruiser comfort while retaining the spirit of a performance-driven Mustang beneath its refined exterior. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Behind the design was another familiar name for aficionados of custom automobiles: Alain Clenet. Known for his artistic approach to vehicle styling, Clenet brought his distinct aesthetic sensibility to the Pegasus, enhancing Sparks’ mechanical vision with the visual grace it deserved. Together, Sparks and Clenet created something that bridged continents — a car born in California but infused with the spirit of European coachbuilding. 

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet carried a 5.0-liter V8 producing 225 horsepower— the same powerhouse found in Ford’s performance cars of its era—giving it the authority to roar down the open highway. (Picture from: ClassicCars)

Today, the Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet feels almost mythical. In an age dominated by high-tech electric vehicles and algorithm-driven design, it stands as a reminder of a more romantic automotive era — one when individuality and craftsmanship were enough to make a car legendary. It may not have been produced in great numbers, nor did it chase mainstream success, but that was never the point. Its rarity is its essence; its existence, a whisper of a time when builders poured their identity into metal and chrome.

The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet blended Sparks’ mechanical vision with Alain Clenet’s refined aesthetic touch, resulting in a California-built car infused with the spirit of European coachbuilding. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Every once in a while, a car comes along that doesn’t just transport people — it transports ideas, emotions, and memories of what driving used to mean. The Sparks Pegasus Cabriolet is one of those cars. It’s less a machine and more a signature — Ron Sparks’ signature — written in steel, leather, and horsepower. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | AIDEN JEWELL IN FLICKR | CLASSICCARS | DRIVE2.RU | WORLD CARS FROM THE 1930S TO 1980S IN FACEBOOK | PINTEREST ]

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Fiat 1400 Boano Junior: Ghia’s Jet-Age Masterpiece

Jetcrafted Elegance - In a world where automotive design often feels like a predictable cycle of reinvention, it’s refreshing to look back at a moment in history when creativity seemed to break free from every known boundary. The early 1950s were exactly that kind of moment. Jet-age aesthetics were sweeping through industrial design, optimism was high, and carmakers were experimenting with shapes that hinted at speed, innovation, and a new era of mobility. It was within this vibrant cultural backdrop that the Fiat 1400 Boano Junior emerged—an unusual, elegant, and remarkably modern expression of post-war imagination.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia emerged as an unusual, elegant, and remarkably modern expression of post-war imagination. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Although the standard Fiat 1400 had already made its debut as Fiat’s first entirely new post-war model in 1950, the version shaped by the hands of Ghia and the young designer Gianpaolo Boano took the familiar chassis and turned it into something much more daring. The original Fiat 1400 itself was a milestone for the brand: a fresh unibody design, technically up-to-date and ready to represent Italy’s renewed automotive landscape. Yet, the country’s famed coachbuilders were still eager to reinterpret mass-produced engineering through their own artistic lenses, and Ghia—already respected for its work with Alfa Romeo, Lancia, Ford, and Fiat—saw the potential for something extraordinary. Although its bodywork was uniquely crafted, the Boano Junior remained mechanically faithful to the Fiat 1400 it was built upon, most likely carrying the model’s familiar 1.4-liter inline-four engine—a dependable powerplant that preserved the engineering character beneath its bespoke exterior.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia makes a striking appearance at the 1952 Concorso d’Eleganza Roma Pincio, surrounded by couture elegance and an enthralled crowd. (Picture from: Carrozzieri-Italiani)

Gianpaolo Boano, son of Ghia’s director Felice Boano, stepped into this opportunity with a concept that fused Italian elegance with the bold spirit of American car culture. At a time when fins, chrome, and aviation-inspired forms dominated the imagination of designers worldwide, his vision fit perfectly. The resulting coupé took on a sweeping two-tone scheme and a shining chromed nose that immediately set it apart. The clean, flowing silhouette was balanced by prominent rear fins, a nod to the era’s fascination with aircraft technology. Even from a contemporary perspective, the design carries a sense of optimism and movement—as if it were drawn to capture both stability and lift.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia poered by a 1.4-liter inline-four engine—a dependable powerplant that preserved the engineering character beneath its bespoke exterior. (Picture from:OnlyCarsAndCars)

Though the exterior steals much of the attention, the overall character of the Boano Junior goes deeper. Built on the dependable Fiat 1400 chassis, the car combined solid engineering with expressive coachwork. The name itself—“Boano Junior”—quietly honors Gianpaolo’s contribution, with the “B” signaling his family lineage and the Junior designation pointing to his role as the next generation of creativity at Ghia. The two examples constructed differed slightly from one another, and one was even mounted on the more powerful Fiat 1900 chassis, giving it enhanced capability beneath its polished surface. Regardless of configuration, each car reflected Ghia’s commitment to craftsmanship: carefully sculpted lines, thoughtfully executed details, and a harmonious presence that hinted at luxury without overwhelming it.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia emerged with a sweeping two-tone body, a gleaming chromed nose, and clean lines that flowed into prominent aircraft-inspired rear fins. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

What makes the Boano Junior even more intriguing today is its astonishing rarity. Only two units were ever produced, each handmade and subtly distinct. Their bodies were crafted in Turin, while assembly took place in Maranello—a collaboration that bridged Italian design hubs at a time when the country was reasserting itself as an automotive powerhouse. The styling, so rooted in American influence yet unmistakably Italian in refinement, proved versatile enough to inspire adaptations on other chassis, including the Lancia Aurelia B52. This adaptability highlights how forward-thinking the design truly was; it wasn’t a one-off experiment but an idea with reach, even if production remained exclusive.

The 1952 Fiat 1400 Boano Junior by Ghia existed in only two handcrafted and slightly different examples, built in Turin and finished in Maranello. (Picture from: WorldCarsFromThe1930sTo1980s in Facebook)

Over the decades, the car's rarity and its unique place in the design landscape granted it nearly mythical status among collectors. One of the examples, driven sparingly by its longtime owner’s family, later appeared at the Concorso d’Eleganza on Lake Como in 2010—a setting where its sculpted form and gleaming finish fit right in with the world’s most celebrated classics. Yet the Boano Junior carries an appeal that extends beyond its value or exclusivity. It represents the conversation between cultures—American boldness and Italian craftsmanship—at a time when industries were reinventing themselves. It also reflects the trust placed in emerging designers like Gianpaolo, whose fresh perspective helped shape the visual language of a changing era. | eweXyuQ04ic |

Today, the Fiat 1400 Boano Junior stands as a reminder of how innovation can flourish when engineering meets artistry and when tradition acts not as a limitation but as a foundation for experimentation. Its lines capture the optimism of the jet age, its construction speaks to Italian mastery, and its rarity elevates it from an interesting footnote to a meaningful chapter in automotive history. For anyone fascinated by design that bridges continents and generations, this modestly sized yet emotionally powerful coupé continues to spark curiosity, holding its place as one of the most distinctive expressions of mid-century automotive imagination. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CARROZZIERI-ITALIANI | ONLYCARSANDCARS | VELOCETODAY | HEMMINGS | WOR;DCARS FROM THE 1930S TO 1980S IN FACEBOOK | QIURKYRIDES IN X ]

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The 1978 Largo: A One-Off Sports Car by Godfred Jensen Lost to Time

Vintage Enigma - The late 1970s were a lively time for automotive experimentation, especially among enthusiasts who preferred building cars with their own hands rather than buying them from a showroom. Within that world of creative engineering, few vehicles are as intriguing—or as elusive—as the yellow sports car known simply as the Largo. Completed around 1978 by Danish builder Godfred Jensen, the car surfaces only through a handful of photographs, yet those images are enough to place it firmly among the most distinctive one-off creations of its era. Without brochures, technical documents, or media coverage, the Largo exists almost entirely as a mystery shaped from fiberglass, imagination, and personal ambition.

The Largo is a unique automotive creation built in 1978 by Danish designer Godfred Jensen, based on the Volkswagen Beetle. (Picture from: Kanaltdk)

What survives visually is striking. The Largo wears a bold yellow finish and features a T-top targa roof, an unusual design choice for independent builders at the time. The twin removable roof panels give the car a playful, open-air personality while still preserving a rigid center bar for structure. Its smooth, flowing body lines and compact sports-car profile evoke the style language of late-70s European custom vehicles, blending the low, clean nose of period sports cars with homebuilt ingenuity. Even without interior photos, the exterior proportions alone suggest a car shaped more by creativity than convention. 

The Largo wheelbase, body proportions, and rear weight balance all hint at Volkswagen origins, even if official confirmation has never surfaced. (Picture from: Kanaltdk)

The foundation beneath that distinctive bodywork is believed to be drawn from the Volkswagen Beetle platform, a favorite among hobbyists throughout Europe during that period. The Beetle’s simple backbone chassis, rear-engine layout, and easily sourced mechanical parts made it a natural starting point for ambitious individuals hoping to create unique personal vehicles. Countless kit cars and homebuilt projects relied on Beetle underpinnings for exactly these reasons, and the Largo fits that pattern both in size and stance. Its wheelbase, body proportions, and rear weight balance all hint at Volkswagen origins, even if official confirmation has never surfaced. 

The Largo wears a bold yellow finish and features a T-top targa roof, an unusual design choice for independent builders at the time. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

Using a Volkswagen platform would have offered Jensen the freedom to shape the Largo’s identity without wrestling with the complexities of designing suspension, drivetrain, or structural components from scratch. Instead, he could focus on the aesthetics and personality of the car, building a low-slung sports machine with a cockpit suited to his vision. The likely pairing of fiberglass body panels with a familiar VW core was a practical approach used by many independent builders of the era, allowing them to achieve ambitious designs with manageable engineering demands.

The Largo's twin removable roof panels give the car a playful, open-air personality while still preserving a rigid center bar for structure (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

The Largo was never meant to become a production model, and everything about its story reflects that. It appears to have been a deeply personal project—built by one man, tested on Danish roads, and reportedly used for several years before being sold. Its registration plate, DT 62521, remains the only formal clue to its existence in Denmark’s vehicle records. Without surviving technical paperwork or magazine features, the car slipped through the cracks of automotive history once it changed hands, leaving no confirmed trail of ownership or location.

The Largo smooth, flowing body lines and compact sports-car profile evoke the style language of late-70s European custom vehicles, blending the low, clean nose of period sports cars with homebuilt ingenuity. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

This scarcity of information is part of what makes the Largo such a compelling artifact today. Built in the pre-internet era, its documentation relied entirely on physical photographs, workshop notes, and personal stories—items that can vanish easily if not deliberately preserved. Many one-off vehicles from the 1970s met similar fates: they lived full and enthusiastic lives locally, only to fade into obscurity once the builders moved on to other pursuits or the cars themselves were stored, sold abroad, or dismantled.

The Largo is a unique automotive creation built in 1978 by Danish designer Godfred Jensen, based on the Volkswagen Beetle. (Picture from: VWNetTet.dk)

Yet the Largo endures in the imagination of enthusiasts precisely because so little is known about it. It reflects an era when passion and ingenuity could bring an entirely unique sports car to life in a modest garage. Its bright yellow body, T-top targa layout, and likely Volkswagen underpinnings tell the story of a builder who sought something different—and had the skill and determination to make it real. Whether the Largo still exists today or vanished long ago, its legacy remains a quiet reminder of how powerful individual creativity can be in shaping automotive history. Finally, if any part of this article is inaccurate, incomplete, or if you have additional information about this car, you are warmly encouraged to share it in the comment section below. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | KANALT.DK | ALLCARINDEX | CCDISCUSSION | VWNETTET.DK ]

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Russia’s “Flying Brick”: A 1930s-Style Hot Rod Reborn

Mechanical Mythcraft - There is something irresistibly captivating about machines that seem to leap out of their own era, as though they’ve slipped through a crack in time just to remind us how wildly inventive human imagination can be. In a world where automotive design is increasingly governed by efficiency metrics and software updates, a creation like Russia’s “Flying Brick” feels almost rebellious—an unapologetic celebration of mechanical artistry. What began as a casual sketch on a napkin has evolved into one of the most unusual modern reinterpretations of 1930s hot-rod culture, shaped by two minds who refused to let bold ideas remain merely ideas. 

Russia’s “Flying Brick”—a 1930s-style hot rod custom by Alexander Opanasenko for Sergei Kabargin—known online as ddKaba. (Picture from: TheArsenale)

The Flying Brick is the shared creation of businessman, racing driver, and video blogger Sergei Kabargin—known online as ddKaba—and professional designer Alexander Opanasenko. Their collaboration stretched across seven years, not because of hesitation, but because the vision kept growing more ambitious. Kabargin’s original doodle had the charm of a vintage fever dream, but it needed someone with a sculptor’s intuition and an engineer’s practicality to transform it into a real machine. Opanasenko stepped into that role, crafting a body that marries sharp, retro geometry with a futuristic temperament.  

The Flying Brick hot rod custom, a modern take on 1930s hot-rod culture, uses an aluminum–carbon fiber monocoque that gives it modern stiffness while keeping its weight near 1,200 kilograms. (Picture from: TheArsenale)

Instead of a traditional steel skeleton, they went for a monocoque built from aluminum and carbon fiber. This blend gives the car a structural stiffness worthy of modern performance standards while keeping its weight just around 1,200 kilograms—surprisingly light for something that looks like it could shoulder its way through a brick wall.  

The Flying Brick hot rod custom features an intentionally awkward front bumper that embraces the brutish charm once iconic to early hot rods. (Picture from: AllCarz.ru)

Its exterior doesn’t attempt to hide its personality; instead, it amplifies it. The front bumper is intentionally awkward, leaning into the brutish charm that early hot rods were known for. Superchargers erupt from the hood like mechanical horns, a visual promise that the engine lurking beneath is not meant for polite Sunday drives.  

The Flying Brick hot rod custom showcases oversized, fully exposed exhaust pipes on each side, transforming even its idle into a striking visual spectacle. (Picture from: Drive2ru)

On each side, oversized exhaust pipes sit proudly exposed, turning the simple act of idling into a spectacle. And then, as a counterpoint to all the vintage aggression, the designers added modern touches—most notably the LED headlights that bring a sleek sci-fi crispness to the car’s stern face. The Flying Brick hot rod custom’s cabin is strikingly minimalist and driver-focused, featuring two racing bucket seats, a surrounding roll bar, a straightforward dashboard with racing-style instruments, a sporty steering wheel, and a tall gear lever with essential knobs on the center console.

The Flying Brick hot rod custom has a minimalist, driver-focused cabin with two racing seats, a roll bar, a simple racing-style dashboard, a sporty wheel, and a tall gear lever with essential knobs. (Picture from: AcademeG in Youtube)

Performance-wise, the project left no room for mediocrity. The current prototype, already fully drivable, runs on a supercharged MAST LS7 engine capable of pushing roughly 900 horsepower. For a one-off retro hot rod with the physique of a steel-jawed comic book villain, that kind of power turns the Flying Brick into something far more serious than an art piece. Kabargin has already put it to the test on Russia’s Igora Drive circuit, where it reached 279 km/h—setting a record for that track and hinting that this machine, odd as it looks, can move with startling purpose. 

The Flying Brick hot rod custom, driven by a supercharged MAST LS7 with about 900 horsepower, shows through its immense performance that it was never meant to be just a showpiece. (Picture from: TheArsenale)

Yet it’s not chasing any production goals or attempting to evolve into a commercial model. Kabargin has made it clear: this is a singular car for a singular vision, and it will remain a one-of-one. Its value isn’t measured by rarity alone. The Flying Brick stands as a fascinating example of how modern craftsmanship can breathe life into design philosophies almost a century old. In the 1930s, hot rods were scrappy, personal, built in garages by tinkerers who wanted more speed than mainstream manufacturers could offer.  | QfSDpq-X1TE | m8kdEkSZFaU |

Today, garage culture may be more complex, but the spirit of individualism, experimentation, and mechanical honesty lives on in projects like the Flying Brick, which reinterprets 1930s hot-rod style for a world often dominated by automation. It shows that craftsmanship still matters, a napkin sketch can become a 900-horsepower reality, and imagination combined with engineering can create something truly extraordinary. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | DRIVE2.RU | ALLCARZ.RU | THEARSENALE | TWEETCIIIIM IN X | RAINMAKER1973 IN X | QUIRKYRIDES IN X ]

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Honda GRX Concept: An Ultra-Light Sports Vision Shaped by Motorcycle-Inspired Engineering

Hybrid Vanguard - In an era where electrification and lightweight engineering dominate nearly every automotive discussion, it’s easy to overlook a time when hybrid performance still sounded like a distant concept. Long before efficiency became a stylistic statement, Honda explored what a truly modern sports car might look like. That exploration began with the bold and futuristic J-VX of the late 1990s and later evolved into the Honda GRX Hybrid Concept—an ultra-light, compact sports study shaped by a fusion of motorcycle-inspired engineering, motorsport cues, and lessons learned from its forward-thinking predecessor. 

The Honda GRX Concept—an ultra-light, compact sports study shaped by a fusion of motorcycle-inspired engineering, motorsport cues, and lessons learned from its forward-thinking predecessor. (Picture from: CarStylingru)

The origins trace back to 1995 when Honda R&D Americas in California was given a loosely defined but ambitious mission: create a concept that could surpass the Mazda Miata in every meaningful aspect. Rather than developing a predictable competitor, the team produced the J-VX, a Japan-spec coupe built with right-hand controls and a lightweight composite-and-aluminum body. 

The Honda J-VX appeared at the 1997 Tokyo Motor Show as a right-hand-drive coupe built from lightweight composite and aluminum, showcasing hybrid tech at a time when it was still rare. (Picture from: TopGear)

When it debuted at the 1997 Tokyo Motor Show as part of Honda’s “J-Mover” series, the J-VX stood out not only because hybrid technology was still a novelty but also because its sharp, exotic-like styling—complete with upward-opening doors reminiscent of miniature Italian supercars—felt like a vision from a decade ahead. 

The Honda J-VX Concept, part of Honda’s “J-Mover” lineup, drew attention with its sharp, futuristic lines and upward-opening doors that lent it the character of a miniature exotic. (Picture from: TopGear)

Inside the J-VX, Honda drew heavily from junior formula racers, shaping an interior defined by a wide wraparound windshield that opened up the cockpit and fixed bucket seats molded directly to the occupants to prioritize weight reduction. Even the four-point harnesses featured integrated airbags, underscoring how committed the concept was to exploring new safety ideas within a racing-focused layout. Every element felt deliberately engineered to express lightness, precision, and experimentation. 

The Honda GRX Concept, developed by Honda R&D Americas in California, emerged as a more muscular, American-influenced reinterpretation of its predecessor, the J-VX, infused with motorcycle-derived engineering. (Picture from: FiveAxis)

That same philosophy carried into the GRX years later, though Honda adapted it with a more measured hand. The GRX kept the minimalist, motorsport-inspired atmosphere but relaxed the extremity that made the J-VX feel almost prototype-only, allowing the cabin to become more approachable without losing its performance-oriented character. As a result, the GRX echoed the original concept’s intent while translating it into a form that hinted at broader usability.

The Honda GRX Concept is powered by a 1.5-liter flat-six derived from motorcycle engineering, marking a sharp departure from its predecessor, the J-VX, which relied on early iteration Honda's hybrid technology for its powertrain. (Picture from: FiveAxis)

Under the surface, however, the divergence between the two concepts became far more pronounced. The J-VX paired a one-liter three-cylinder VTEC engine with an early iteration of Honda’s Integrated Motor Assist hybrid system supported by a supercapacitor, creating a featherweight mild hybrid designed to boost performance rather than efficiency. The GRX instead abandoned hybrid experimentation altogether, adopting a 1.5-liter flat-six derived from motorcycle engineering, shifting its identity toward an exploration of cross-disciplinary powertrain synergy rather than the future of electrification.

The Honda GRX Concept retained the minimalist, motorsport-inspired atmosphere but softened the extreme, prototype-like feel of the J-VX, making the cabin more approachable without sacrificing its performance-focused character. (Picture from: FiveAxis)

Despite Honda’s enthusiasm for the J-VX’s advanced hybrid system, the idea of a hybrid sports car was seen as too daring for late-1990s production. The technology was redirected into the first-generation Insight in 1999, which carried the J-VX’s hybrid foundation but not its dramatic form. Years later, the GRX resurfaced in 2006 as a refreshed interpretation—now riding on updated bumpers, revised wheels, and a left-hand-drive layout for the American market—demonstrating that the fundamental idea of a compact, city-friendly sports concept had remained surprisingly relevant. 

The Honda GRX Concept resurfaced in 2006 with updated bumpers, revised wheels, and a left-hand-drive layout for the U.S. market, proving the compact city-friendly sports idea still had clear relevance. (Picture from: FiveAxis)

When the GRX appeared at the North American Auto Show, its design evolution became even clearer. Though still recognizable as a descendant of the J-VX, its proportions and surfaces hinted at the silhouette that would eventually influence the Honda CR-Z. The shift from a hybrid powertrain to a motorcycle-derived flat-six also reframed its character entirely, emphasizing how the concept could evolve beyond its original technical mission while still maintaining its commitment to lightness and driver-focused dynamics. | A9--O_enO9w | 69R8NbqGNSM |

The GRX eventually left the public circuit around 2015, but unlike the J-VX—whose current whereabouts are unclear—it survives today in the American Honda Museum, where it represents Honda’s late-1990s experimentation in compact performance. Placed in context, the J-VX stands as the original hybrid-driven vision, while the GRX reflects a more muscular, American-influenced evolution with motorcycle-derived engineering. Neither concept reached production, yet together they shaped Honda’s early thinking on lightweight sports ideas and hybrid-adjacent innovation, proving how impactful pure experimentation can be. *** [EKA | FROM VARIOUS SOURCES | CARSTYLING.RU | FIVEAXIS | SUPERHONDA | HONDA-TECH | SLASHGEAR | TOPGEAR | WIKIPEDIA | DARYL K IN FLICKR ]

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